Spencer, the Director of CIA operations, Langley Field, Virginia, rocked back in his office-chair and pressed the control button on his computer projector. One of his most dependable field operatives, Tzivia Azaria uncrossed narrow, denim-sheathed legs and leaned forward to examine the screen.

Taz was a tall woman, in her early thirties and dressed in black with flat-soled leather boots laced to her knees. Spencer watched her lithe, fluent movements and wondered if he would ever get her into bed again. He shuddered, thought of his wife, and pushed the images of Taz, twisting her hips up and grinding in his groin with comma-shaped semicircles, out of his mind. “I am sending you to Bogota,” Spencer said. “Locate” ... and he pointed to the computer screen, “this man ... Juan Carlos, and do whatever is necessary to neutralize him.”

Juan Carlos peered out the rear window of his Mercedes limousine, watched his men tumble from the armored Hummer parked behind and take up positions. He knew that at the rear of the building a forth man was likewise guarding the kitchen door and a fifth was stationed on the roof. Juan Carlos had enemies and it didn’t pay to mess with them.

His driver had parked across from the Parke Central in the Pueblo of Guativita, fifty miles north-east of the capitol, Bogota, and now, after a reassuring nod from the lead man, the chauffeur swung the Mercedes door open.

It was silly, Juan Carlos knew, but he felt stark-naked as he crossed the sidewalk to the entrance-way of Casa Anna’s and it was with a great sense of relief that he stepped into the comfort of the dim interior. He heard the restaurant door snap closed behind and let our the breath he had been holding. Such were the shortcomings of success.

Manuel stepped to meet him. “Sir. Your table.”

“Thank you. Breakfast as usual, please.

“Of course, sir.” And Manuel cocked his head and backed toward the kitchen. But Juan was immediately distracted. He focused on someone new working the tables across the room. He did not recognize the girl and that set off alarms in the back of his head and he immediately stepped behind his bodyguard to shield himself from any altercation.

But the girl didn’t look up and steadily worked at clearing tables. His bodyguard glanced back over a shoulder, a question in his eyes and Juan suddenly felt a small bit foolish.

Juan was a big guy and should in no way have been intimidated by a mere woman. He took a breath, pretended to eye the waitress dismissively and, pulling at the lapels of his jacket, he regained his composure. He moved to his usual table where Manuel was laying out his breakfast: a whiskey glass of brandy, a black coffee and a small, even blacker, Colombian cigar. It was the only drink and cigar Juan would allow himself during the course of the day.

He was six-foot two but he tenaciously adhered to the weight scales. He was a trim two-hundred pounds and at five that morning he had run four miles to the gym where his trainer had put him through a vigorous one-hour session with the free-weights. Juan had gloved-up, sparred three rounds, shaved and showered and now was ready for his breakfast.

“Juan my love, murder anyone important yet, today?”

He was instantly on his feet. A show of respect. A gentle look of affection softened his grim jaw and he immediately forgot about the new waitress. “Anna. Run away with me.”

She was a superb woman, smooth features with slightly hooded eyes, but it was an untouchable sort of beauty– cold and distant. “I would,” she replied, “but you are much too young, dear.” She lightly raked his cheek with her fingernails. “And who would look out for my restaurant?”

He chuckled warmly. “Please, sit. Join me.”

“Only until you light that cigar,” she warned with a raised brow and took the chair he pulled from the table.

Her body was cuddled in a simple black dress and Juan took note of the thin shoulder strap that had the pleasing habit of disobeying Anna’s wishes by sliding seductively down to her elbow, where finally, she chose to ignore it. He imagined that the silk dress was all she wore. It was much too clingy to hide panty-lines, and indeed, Anna would rather be seen naked that have her dressed appearance marred with ugly lines and creases.

Anna had lived an extensive life and had twenty or more years on Juan Carlos, but even so, a youthful woman blessed with a certain grace, there wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t stop to admire the curve of her leg or the slope of her breast. Her expression was smoky, mysterious– interrupted by a wide seductive smile. “Everything to your liking, Juan?”

He settled himself into his chair. “Of course, love.” Juan Carlos looked into stunning eyes of deep chocolate under dark, heavily arched brows. Her thick black hair was held back with a comb of hammered silver. “I’m serious. I’d give it all up for you. We could move to Miami...”

“Miami?”

“If only I could convince you...”

“And if I say no? What then? Nail my nipples to a plank of wood?”

“Anna, how could you even suggest...”

Anna’s smile broadened. “Be serious Juan Carlos. Your acts of retribution are legendary on the streets of Bogota ... But no matter, Miami is much too cold.”

“Ah-h, then I am doomed to be celibate. For my lifetime.”

Anna tossed back her head. “You? Celibate? You have ruined every virgin in Bogota, mi amor. A celibate– please. It is God’s little wonder that you still have a pee-pee left between your legs ... have not scarfed it completely off.”

Juan lifted his hands in defense. “It was all for you, Anna. In preparation for our wedding night. I now possess the forbidden knowledge of all womankind’s secrets and charms. And can satisfy any and all of your wants and desires, completely. The rest of your life will pass as if in a dream.”

He reached beneath her arm to handle her breast but for all the reaction it garnered, he might as well have tested the firmness of a marketplace tomato. But still, her sturdy nipple lifted to tease his palm.

Anna didn’t pull from his hand. “A dream,” she scoffed playfully. “My dream is to fill this table with paying customers, Juan Carlos. Customers who order slabs of bacon, eggs, potatoes, butter and bread.” She held his hand to her breast for a moment, then stood, pushing her chair away with the backs of her knees. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on the kitchen staff ... be sure they are not stealing my bacon and selling it outside the backdoor.”

Juan watched her rollicking behind move beneath the soft, thigh-length dress. He had been right about her distaste of underwear. Damn, he thought, why not just buy the bloody restaurant and bend his new employee over a table. Stick his damned dick were he wanted– up her backside, and to hell with Miami. Oh well, he shrugged, and picked up his cigar.

It was right what she had said about the virgins. There were a couple of European youngsters, a pair of sixteen-year-old blonde bookends, a boy and a girl, waiting back at his villa. And next week there would be a couple more. And a boring, never-ending supply after that, if he so desired it.

He lighted his cigar with a wooden match and blew out a plume of blueish smoke. Then with cold discomfort, he considered his more immediate concern: the American pilot.

Barnard could fly a Gulfstream like friggin’ crazy. No one had the cojones to fly at close to six-hundred miles an hour, beneath the DEA’s radar, with the wingtips just clearing the treetops. The standing joke was that after Bern landed, the ground crew had to pull the palmetto fronds outta the wheels before they could unload the shipment from the jet’s tires.

Yeah, he was a superb pilot. The best, in fact, but lately the shipments had been arriving in Ocala a little light. Not much ... just a pound or two ... but it was a matter of principal. No one was to be allowed to steal from Juan Carlos. No one.

The problem had been discussed. And rationalized: When you ship tons of the stuff, it stood to reason that a pound or two might slip between the cracks. Only that wasn’t acceptable to Juan Carlos who prided himself on being precise. Pound for pound, the shipment should be accounted for. And there was only one intermediary between the loading and off-loading of the product. And that was Barnard.

There could be no doubt. Bern was skimming. A despicable practice in Juan’s mind, particularly when he considered the amount of money he paid Bern for each delivery. To then skim the shipment was a show of great disrespect for Juan’s generosity. A slap in the face that could not go unpunished.

Juan studied his cigar. Bern would be hard to replace. But then, maybe I am being hasty, Juan thought. Maybe something more prudent– a simple lesson, would suffice.

He rolled the cigar between his thumb and finger and thought of Marie, the woman he had bedded before passing her along to Bern. Juan Carlos had felt giddy on their wedding day, had envisioned Marie standing naked at the altar. He had seen it enough times that he didn’t have to engage his imagination. And on their wedding night, Bern’s sperm had mingled with his own inside the woman’s womb. It had been his parting gift to her and she had received him willingly. Poor Bern never suspected that his new bride was decidedly broken in– well used, in fact.

Juan Carlos had paid for that wedding, and the lavish reception that followed. And he had paid for the newlywed’s villa on the hillside. And now this betrayal. The thought sickened him.

He lost his taste for the cigar and snuffed it.

Juan’s mind drifted. He remembered Marie’s lovely breasts– how round and full they felt in his hands. Remembered how willing she had been in his bed– open to his bidding, no matter how unnatural or perverse. Juan Carlos settled into his chair, his mood shifting like storm clouds. Maybe it was time for a return visit to the lovely treasures Marie bestowed. A taste of what had once been. He thought a moment then picked up his phone. “Feon? I plan to send Bern on a delivery. While he’s gone I will stop by his villa. I will want Petter to meet me there,” he said.

“You’re going to visit Marie? Without Bern being there?” the woman asked with peaked interest.

“Yes.”

Feon chuckled. “Well, well. Should I have Petter go out to the shed and cut a piece of wood?”

Petter was one of Juan’s drivers, and his wife, Feon, worked as one of his domestics.

“Exactly,” Juan Carlos said. “And get nails, long rusty ones. Place them in the back of my car.”

Feon laughed again and left a delightful ringing sound in Juan’s ear before she hung up. The doe-eyed creature had been an unexpected find. Petter, working as a driver, had instantly been dismissed when Juan found him asleep behind the wheel of the Mercedes. Petter had complained, whining like a beaten dog, but in the end he had left with his cap in his hand.

Juan hadn’t thought much of the incident, having dismissed many layabouts over the years. But things changed dramatically that very afternoon when he heard a light tap at his library door. It was the housekeeper, Feon.

The woman was overwrought with anxiety. She pleaded on behalf of her husband to save his job. Her mother was sick and she was raising her younger sister. Without Juan’s generosity, they could not survive.

Juan carefully weighed his options. She was not the most attractive woman he had ever met but still, he had often admired the length of her leg and the curve of her ass as she mounted the staircase with his fresh bed-linens.

“Please Juan Carlos, please reconsider...” and she clasped her hands together, the tears spilling over.

“Feon. You are an attractive women,” he finally confided. “Have you ever entertained the notion of taking some time away from Petter?”

His intentions were suddenly and abundantly clear. He was being suggestive and the responsibility of saving her husband’s job and the welfare of her family came to rest on her slim shoulders.

His response stilled her heart. “Juan Carlos? Petter’s job ... you are suggesting I fuck for it?”

“No ... no.” Juan reassured her, having something more dastardly in mind. “Only that you consider the consequences, Feon. You have it within your power to save your family, but everything comes with a price. Are you willing to pay?”

His words were crushing. Feon was well aware of the antic romps that played out behind Juan’s bedroom door. And now she was being asked to add her body to Juan’s impressive list of concubines. I can’t, she stonily made up her mind. I am betrothed and a good Catholic girl. But then she thought of her mother who would surely die without her daily injection. What was she prepared to do to save mama’s life? And there was the need, at the end of the day, to put food on her table.

She shuddered. “Please, Juan Carlos...” she tried again. “What is it you are asking of me?”

He came out from behind his desk. “I think you can begin by getting down on your knees, Feon.”

Her insides turned to ice water. “Y-you want me? In m-my mouth?” she stumbled out the words.

Juan had always wanted to, but never had the courage to ask. But here was his chance. He commanded power over Feon and it gave him the courage to make demands. “No. Not right away. You have to work up to it ... to show me you are worthy.”

Her expression clouded. “I- I don’t understand.”

“You will. Now down on your knees or go home and explain to your husband how the both of you have come to lose your employment on the very same day.

Feon was stunned by this turn of events. It was double or nothing, she realized. She had come to save her husband’s job and now was at risk of losing her own. The injustice of it wasn’t fair but what was left for her. She slumped. “Don’t tell Petter. Please. I beg of you.”

Juan ran a hand over her breast and smiled. “Get down there and try not to choke-up onto my rug.”

‘Oh God,” she exhaled. But with Juan’s hand on her shoulder, she allowed herself to be guided to her knees and watched in mortal consternation as Juan unzipped and presented her with a hard, extended penis.

“Take the head into your mouth,” he said. “and clamp down with your lips.”

I’ve always wanted to try this, he reminded himself as he relaxed his bladder and filled her mouth with piss. Feon struggled and he took great delight in listening to the sound of her steady, insistent swallowing.

Juan turned in his chair and nodded to his bodyguard. The hulking man acknowledged Juan’s request to leave the restaurant and stepped outside the door to check with his men.

Juan was on the sidewalk, almost to the Mercedes, when the feeling slid across his back. I was like the cross-hairs of a rifle scope had settled between his shoulder blades and instinctively, he jerked around to look.

She was standing in the window of one of Anna’s rooms on the second floor. It was the new girl, a hand raised to lower the shade. Juan swallowed hard. The girl had stripped-off, to the waist, and as he watched, her heavily-laden breasts swayed.

She had not impressed him as a attractive woman– working the restaurant tables with her hair tied back, held in place with a piece of old string. Her eyes were small, and though her mouth was wide, her lips were colorless and thin. She had a band of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The only thing that had attracted his attention at all, was her tallness.

But now, bare breasted and with auburn hair loose about her pale shoulders, Juan Carlos reassessed and felt his penis press against the front of his trousers. He held her gaze for just barely a moment, her body frozen between the window frames, before she realized her indiscretion– that she was vulnerable and being compromised.

Without acknowledging him, she quickly reached up to pull the shade, her right breast lifting. It was enough. He had to hold those breasts in his hands. It wasn’t that they were so large, but it was the impressive shape of the flesh that captivated his imagination. He could only describe her breasts as being firm but somehow “swooshy” ... full and round through the under-curve but with tips lifting upward, like the spout of a saucière for serving gravy, he thought.

All the way back to his villa, he thought of nothing but the woman’s breasts and the blatant, high-minded nipples. He walked through to the terrace that overlooked the pool. The kids, Swedish pack-packers, were there roasting their hides in the sun. The girl was face-down on a lounger, her bare back tanned and smooth. The boy was beside her, his hand in hers.

With curly blond traces and crystalline blue eyes, they could be twins, Carlos thought. He was closer to the truth than he knew.

Born in the rural Norrland District of Sweden and living miles from other children, Sven and Sina spent every daylight hour entertaining themselves, playing together in the fields and woodlands. It was a wonderful, idyllic childhood and the two had become inseparable, even bathing together, something their mother had encouraged from the very beginning because of the lack of indoor plumbing.

Little Sina loved her bother and looked out for him and, when alone in the tub, she would carefully wash his hair and then his genitals. And when Sven was a little older, she started to encourage him to return the favor with washcloth and soap.

And she had been the one who had shown Sven how to finger himself– something she had learned from watching her father in the barn– until his little penis grew and became very hard. Then, as Sven matured and his balls dropped, it had been up to her to show Sven how to masturbate himself.

She held him and worked the foreskin over the washbasin, and after, she took it upon herself to wipe him ... to make him clean. And when he wasn’t watching, she touched her fingers to her tongue, because she had a craving and wondered why...

So it seemed natural, when she became a young teenager, that Sina should lift her dress and, down on all fours like the cows, show Sven the real reason she possessed a vagina. It was a sexual awakening for both children and once he had been introduced to her unique physical attribute and its amazing abilities, he would ask for her help every time they found themselves alone together. Sina enjoyed the feeling of being opened and stretched and in her enthusiasm, had never thought to refuse Sven, even though in later years, it would become necessary to share her vagina with Sven and the boyfriend that had come into her life.

The boyfriend had proved fickle, and after sampling Sina’s treats for a time, he had disappeared into the arms of an older, more experienced woman, but not before leaving Sina with new skills.

More versed in the art of sexual pleasuring, Sina encouraged her brother to explore the delicious sensations provided by the diligent use of fingers and tongue. Now, armed with the knowledge of foreplay as a prelude to satisfying orgasms, the two were the recipients of a thoroughly satisfying sex life. And when the timing wasn’t quite right, anal became the birth-control method of choice. And with the right amount of lubricant, Sina found she liked that just fine, too.

Watching the two teenagers lolling by the pool, Juan felt a sense of urgency overtake his testicles. He blamed it on the woman in the window but quickly stripped off and pulled a beach robe around his shoulders before going out to the youngsters. “Time to show appreciation for my hospitality.”

The girl came up on elbows and smiled. Her smallish breasts hung like cones from a pine bough, her nipples, the color of honey. “Juan. I was wondering...”

“Yes, Sina...” he said, “it’s been a day or so.”

Sina was sly. “Do you want me to suck on you, Juan? Or Sven, maybe...”

Juan Carlos smiled. “Both.”

“Oh my...” Sina smiled back and swung her legs around. Sitting on the edge of the lounger, she opened Juan’s robe and held him in her hand. “C’mon, Sven. Help me.” And she placed her lips on the head of Juan’s penis.

Sven was reluctant but came around to knee alongside on the patio tile to lavish Juan’s shaved testicles with his tongue while his sister opened her mouth wide to take Juan into her throat.

Juan looked down onto the tops of two blond, curly-haired heads bobbing as his penis was being encouraged to loosen the balls. It should have been enough, but it took visions of the girl in the window, her breasts moving as she reached for the shade, to stir his testicles into a response.

“Me or Sven?” He heard Sina ask.

“Sven,” he said, pushing her face away. The thought of defiling Sina’s lover’s mouth while she watched, lifted his cock. And the superiority he felt, over another male, was like a hit from a doper’s hypo. He laughed as his cock strained in the boy’s mouth and Juan reached down to grab the boy about the ears.

The first ejaculation filled Sven’s mouth. Juan pulled back and spurted twice more, sending an arch of semen across the boy’s lips and face. Juan laughed again as Sven fell back onto his ass and, as his sister watched, Juan saw the look of disgust curl her lips. Sven rolled face-down, his back clutching as he retched up semen onto the tiles. He gagged and started to cry, his body heaving.

“Fucking-christ,” Sina glared down at her brother, spitting up onto the tile, “he expects me to do it. All the time...”

“Yes.” Juan nodded. “Swallowing a man’s cum– your lot in life, I’m afraid.”

Sina looked up, a wide-eyed Bambi, not sure if he was taunting her or poking fun.

Juan closed his robe. “I need to shower, now.” And with a last look at the miserable boy, he moved toward the garden shower-enclosure.

He was just soaping up when he felt Sina’s arms encircle his waist. “Want company?” she asked from behind with an irritating giggle. She had pulled off her bottoms, was nude and all slippery. She reached around with soapy fingers to wash his penis.

He shuddered under her touch and was surprised to find himself responding to her mothering ways.

Sina cuddled closer and, arching into the curve of his spine, she started masturbating him. “I need a favor...”

Carlos let out a breath. “A favor?” He turned into her arms, her little nipples like needles piercing the skin of his chest. Her hands moved to remain connected to his cock. “You are staying in a twenty-million dollar villa,” he replied, “with food and drink? And you want a favor?”

“An airline ticket, that’s all. A one-way to Europe. Economy will do.”

“An airline ticket? Just one?”

“Yes. For Sven. I plan to stay here, with you. You can fuck me anytime you want. And no restrictions. You can enjoy other women. I know you have a hunger but that’s okay. I understand these things.”

Juan Carlos felt his penis wither. This woman’s betrayal was surprising, and disheartening. “How very mature...” he mumbled and turned away. He could understand a woman’s desire to bite into the serpent’s apple, particularly when she was young. And especially with an experienced man like himself, but to turn her back on the man to whom she professed her love was upsetting and he felt sickened by her callousness.

“Stay here and cleanse yourself,” he said. “I will go to my room to dress.”

On his way to the staircase, Juan stopped to speak with one of his men. “Escort the two visitors off the property,” Juan Carlos instructed. “Fuck the girl if you have the desire, but be quick. I want them gone by the time I return.”

“Yes, Mr Carlos,” the man nodded, “and thank you, sir.” The guard was always happy to partake in Juan’s leftovers.

When Sina entered through the glass doors, she was grabbed from behind. There were two of them and while one had her about the neck, the other man pulled her swimsuit bottoms down about her knees. Sina screamed. “Get the fuck away from me. Juan Carlos will hear of this.”

But the men just laughed and turned her breasts out of her top. Sven swore loudly in Swedish, “Kulla...” but was quickly silenced with a punch to the gut. He fell to the floor and rolled up onto hands and knees. The jealousy he felt was like a white-hot nail driven into the heart but all he could do as he dragged himself into a chair, was watch as one of the men fingered his naked sister between the legs.

The struggling girl was lifted from her feet. “Get her over to the sofa,” one man said, and the other dropped to corral Sina’s bucking legs. She struggled hard but didn’t have a chance against two of Juan’s bodyguards and defeated, her struggling body was lifted from the floor, then carried across the room.

Now, struck by the hopeless desperation of the situation, Sina covered her eyes and heaved, the tears filled her eyes, overflowing and tracing salty lines across her cheeks. She watched one of the men drop his trousers and make himself comfortable on the sofa, his dick sticking out toward the ceiling like a fence-pole.

“Sit on it,” the guard ordered but before she could respond, the man behind lifted her and dropped her into his associate’s lap. The guy beneath her legs reached for his cock, dragged it between her vaginal lips and jacked upwards. “We are in a hurry,” he informed her as his cock stretched her wide, “so to save time you will do both of us ... together.” And with a cold laugh, he wrapped an arm about her neck and pulled her shoulders forward, raising her ass as the second man moved into position.

“No-o,” she screamed. But the second man was already shuffling his cock between her buttocks. He widened the tiny anus with fingers, stretching it open and, bending at the knees, he forged upward into her anus.

It felt like her rectum had been invaded by a swarm of angry wasps and Sina, thinking her ass had been split, seethed through ground teeth while fighting the burn that traveled up her spine to cinch her neck. “No! Please stop. I’ll do anything ... but not that.”

The man behind just laughed. He pulled back, adjusted the angle, and reentered her, cruelly reaming out her ass and stretching the bloodless tissues paper thin. Sina came up onto her knees and, tossing her head back, unleashed an unmitigated scream. A scream so bitter, so relentless, that to Sven it sounded like the men had shattered her soul along with her pelvis and he felt his stomach heave. But her scream did nothing to stem the assault on Sina’s insides.

She fell forward and gripped the man under her by the neck and ground down as the guards began to simultaneously pound her groin– one in front, the other at the rear. She could do nothing but try to hold onto her sanity, and just when even that seemed to be slipping away, the man behind mercifully emptied his scrotum into her bowels and wrenched free of her.

The man below twisted, toppling her across the sofa cushions and, following after her with arms beneath her knees, he forced her feet up beside her shoulders. He started in on her once more, distorting the insides of her cunt and bashing at the bruised tip of her cervix. A moment later, he too spewed his semen deep into her vagina and, rolling off, he pushed her to the floor.

“Get her some pants,” he shouted at Sven, “or so help me, I’ll toss her into the street naked.”

Sven jumped and raced through the glass doors. Sina had changed into her swimsuit in a poolside cabana and there he found her jeans and shirt. When Sven returned with her bundle of clothes clutched to his chest, he found Sina, a hand on the back of the sofa, tentatively placing one foot in front of the other. The pain was evident on her face.

He helped pull jeans up nude legs and got the shirt about her shoulders. “Here,” a man called from the stairs and he tossed two backpacks onto the tile by the front door.

Sina and Sven were herded from the compound like a couple of mangy street dogs and shoved bodily through the iron gates. Sina saw the old woman across the street look up from the cobblestone at the clatter of bolts and locks. The woman jolted and raised a hand.

Sina felt a wave of nausea. “If she’s begging for money, I’ll kick her in the fucking teeth,” Sina sneered, but then chanced to look down.

It was like she had been dragged through the thorny underbrush by her heels.

Her clothes were tattered and the front of her shirt was held together by only two misaligned buttons that failed to hide the yellow bruising about her breasts or the welt of teethmarks rising about her right areola. As she looked down, her head swam and she felt the bile rising from her stomach. Sweat beaded up across her shoulders. “Sven. A cold drink. Hurry please,” and she pointed along the street, “go ... to the shops.”

Desperate for a place to sit before she blacked-out, Sina crossed the street with her eye on the corner of the old woman’s blanket; a blanket laden with household wares: towels, blankets and cheap tin pots. The woman saw Sina stagger, her shirt open and her demeanor in disarray. She beckoned again, with curled fingers.